Unfading Beauty

Kevin and I spent the weekend on the North Coast of Jamaica.  Kevin had a work function and I went along for the oceanfront view and beachside piña coladas.  We stayed at the Ritz, wined and dined on escargot and other unknown delicacies (you know you’re someplace fancy when you can’t pronounce what you’re eating) and brushed shoulders with some of the biggest names in the Caribbean tourism industry. 

On Saturday night we attended a gala.  Kevin wore his three piece suit from our wedding; complete with handmade cufflinks made out of shoe string, as he forgot his actual cufflinks in Kingston (The ingenuity of that boy still surprises me).  I wore high heels for the first time in years (literally).  I am not a high heel girl…I wore slippers on my wedding day; if that gives you any insight into the priority I place on comfort.  Prior to the gala, I spent an entire day shopping for a comfortable pair of heels, and quickly realized this was an oxymoron.  My feet are still recovering.

The gala was hosted by the Caribbean Hotel and Tourism Association.  They were celebrating fifty years since their inception, and honored the lives that had led and influenced along the way.  The Association’s first president opened the evening.  He was an old man — I’d guess in his late eighties.  His hair was white, his fingers arthritic, and his skin like a prune.  When it became obvious he couldn’t climb the two stairs leading up to the stage on his own, people rushed to his aid and quite literally lifted him up and positioned him in front of the podium.  He was surprisingly articulate and verbose, and his eyes lit up as he relived his golden years.  The sad part was…nobody really cared.  As his speech dragged on far over his allotted time, people simply stopped listening.  There was a low rumble in the crowd, as guests carried on private conversations at their dinner tables, oblivious to this former president’s attempt to prove he had once been someone worth listening to.

As I sat in my chair, wondering if this man realized his years of power and prestige were a thing of the past; I felt a common thread between him and all mankind:  We’re all in the process of fading away.  We may be in different chapters, but the book ends the same for everyone.  And the closer we get to the end, the more we realize how short the book is and how fast the time’s gone.   

One day (sooner than we think) we’ll all be in the final chapter.  Our beauty will fade.  Our strength will fade.  Our power will fade.  Sitting at the gala, I felt an urgency to live for something that will not fade.  To spend my time and energy investing in things that will outlast this life:  A gentle spirit, a kind heart, a generous soul.  I want unfading beauty.  I want treasures that will last forever. 

It’s something I’m working on—or rather, God’s working on in me: Striving for beauty in my inner self, and investing in treasures that can’t be destroyed.  It’s a challenging lesson to master, especially in a culture that embraces the external.  Though beauty and power are fleeting, they are still alluring, and it takes boldness and great faith to resist the world’s charms. 

So here is a toast to the courageous among us who pursue unfading beauty and fix their eyes on unseen treasures they may never receive on this earth.  May I be counted among them.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6: 19-21

A Rescue Mission

Not long ago, Kevin and I were running at the Mona Reservoir, a large lake-like body of water, surrounded by mountains and lush vegetation — a touch of calm in the chaos of Kingston.  In our effort to “shape up” we run a few laps around the reservoir several times a week.  We usually go early — between five and six in the morning — to beat the Jamaican heat and get it out of the way.  (Let’s be honest, no matter how much of a runner you may be, it always feels good to check it off your list for the day!)

This particular morning, we’d been running just a few minutes when movement caught Kevin’s eye.  Stumbling across our path was a panic-stricken bird.  It was covered in thorns, and appeared to have flown into some sort of cocklebur bush.  The bird kept trying to walk, trying to fly and was unsuccessful at both.  Sheathed in thorns, it couldn’t take a step without falling.  This only made matters worse, as every fall further embedded the thorns in its little body.

Kevin and I are both fierce animal lovers.  Every house we live in comes with a stray cat, which we pseudo-adopt, feed, and introduce to the human world.  Living in Jamaica, we have lizards, spiders and roaches galore, but even in my fear I can’t kill them.  Instead of a destiny swirling down the toilet, most are captured and freed by my courageous husband (while I cheer on from the dining room tabletop). 

All that to say, when we saw this little bird’s dilemma, we both melted.  We followed it around a few minutes, trying to devise a rescue mission that wouldn’t involve missing fingers or transmission of the bird flu.  Every few minutes we would timidly snatch away a thorny branch, only to be snapped and squawked at.  We were beginning to feel like the situation was hopeless — that the bird was destined to be the afternoon snack of a badger or snake— when two more animal lovers came walking our way.  These folks were brave.  The man gently picked up the bird, the woman held his beak shut with two fingers, and Kevin and I laboriously picked out all the thorns.  It took at least half an hour, and as we worked the bird went from flailing and fighting to resting calmly in the man’s hands, as if he knew we were trying to help.  When the little bird was finally free, the man set him on the path, and we all watched like proud parents as he took a few steps and flew away. 

As we finished our morning run, I couldn’t help thinking how often we act like that little bird.  We are encased in thorns — the worries that overwhelm us, the burdens that crush us, the sins that entangle us, the lies that blind us.  We desperately try and escape.  We’re determined to figure a way out on our own, but the harder we try the more exhausted we become.  All the while, God is right there waiting, ready to pick us up and gently remove our thorns.  He wants to deliver us from a life of worry and fear.  He wants to teach us how to fly.  But so often we resist, driven by fear instead of by faith, relying on ourselves because it’s too terrifying to relinquish control.  If only we would trust in the goodness of our heavenly Father!  Yes, it might hurt a little.  The first thorn removed may cause a sting.  It might be an arduous and painstaking process, one that leaves us vulnerable and exposed.  But once we’re soaring free, we’ll realize it was worth it.  The Rescuer made us to fly.

Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:28-31

Striving to soar,

Kevin & Cass

On NASCAR and Prayers

Downtown Kingston

Greetings and Happy May!  Hope flowers are abloom wherever you are, and that your heart is also blooming in love, joy and celebration of life!

I’d like to describe to you our experience of driving in Jamaica, as it’s a big part of our daily lives here.  I’m not quite sure how to start, as it seems there are no words to accurately express the pandemonium that ensues when we start the engine and hit the streets. 

I’ve decided the best way to convey the experience is to compare it to a video game: Every man for himself, all the odds against you, may the best craziest driver win.  There are a few loose rules.  Traffic lights and stop signs are options for creating order, but the majority of drivers see them as an inconvenience and waste of time.  Obstacles pop out at any given moment:  Bicyclists carrying shovels, bamboo stalks, and other random objects, stray dogs crossing the street on a whim, barefoot children chasing each other, goats, pushcarts and motorcycles are just a few of many hindrances you may encounter en route.  Public transportation exists in the form of large, sluggish buses that have a mind of their own and make frequent, sporadic stops.  If you get behind one of them the game is over for you.  Not only are you stuck for the indefinite future, but the fumes might kill you on the spot.  Drivers believe in using all lanes, regardless of the traffic flow to get to their destination fastest.  The pot holes are more like large lunar craters, and during rainy season you really need an ark in lieu of a car.  It’s a white knuckled, heart racing, close-your-eyes-until we get there experience.

Interestingly, Kevin THRIVES on the roads here.  A little known fact about Kevin is that he’s certain his life’s calling involves being a NASCAR driver.  He’s never actually been in a racecar, but he “feels it in his bones” that given the chance, he’d take NASCAR to new heights.  The Kingston streets only confirm his calling.  He navigates the chaos with the finesse of a feline and views every obstacle as a chance to channel his inner Jeff Gordon. 

Given my husband’s aspirations, it’s no surprise that when we first arrived in Kingston, I was certain we wouldn’t last more than a week without catastrophe.  Every morning when Kevin left for the office, I literally hit my knees in prayer, begging God to protect him and help him make it in one piece.  The situation was so desperate and so beyond my control that praying seemed the only option.

After a few months, I got used to Jamaican driving, and the threat didn’t seem so big.  We were getting along fine, and I was actually driving around town running errands (without having a panic attack).  As I became more comfortable, I started praying less.  I was kissing Kevin good-bye and starting my day, without giving a thought to asking God for protection.  So often comfort leads to complacency, and as the danger diminished, so did my prayers.

Last week I was driving to the golf course to pick Kevin up after an early morning round.  As I was driving, the Holy Spirit so convicted me of my self-reliance and lack of prayers.  I couldn’t think of the last time I had prayed for protection.  I thanked God for protecting us so far on our journey, asked forgiveness for not making prayer a priority, and prayed that He would keep me safe as I drove to get Kevin.  I picked Kevin up and we headed back to house.  As we were driving, out of nowhere a car pulled out in front of us, totally oblivious to our presence.  Because of our speed and the hill we were descending, there was no way to avoid an accident.  I slammed on the breaks and waited for the “crunch.”  I knew both cars were totaled, and my mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to process the hassle, the damage, and the number of probable broken bones.  It seemed to last forever…I kept waiting, and waiting and waiting for the collision.  But it never came.  Our car stopped inches short of the other vehicle.  I’m talking literal inches.  You couldn’t have fit a paper clip between the two bumpers.   

I can’t prove what happened that afternoon, but I believe in my heart God heard my prayer for safety, graced us with protection and miraculously stopped the collision.  In my mind, I see Him watching the scene unfold, reaching His mighty arm down to Shortwood Road, and stopping our car with the strength of His fingertip.  Then He gives us a gentle smile as we close our eyes in thanks, chuckling to Himself as we drive the rest of the way home sending hi fives to heaven.

So often we wonder if prayer really works, and so often we can’t see tangible results to confirm that it does.  But sometimes God gives us such vivid proof that it can’t be denied.  And those moments keep me praying.

“Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear.” 

(Isaiah 59:1)

With Love,

Kevin & Cass

Enduring Hardship

One of the most exciting things about this season is how God is growing our faith in ways that might not have been possible had we never left Houston.  Perhaps the biggest lesson I’ve learned so far is in regards to hardship.  It’s humbling to admit now, but part of me felt like God owed us in this transition — that we had taken a huge leap of faith, so He better not let us down (and that certainly meant hardship would not be involved!)

Initially, I felt God wasn’t doing a very good job holding up His end of the bargain.  It felt like we had leaped, only to be left free falling without a parachute.  Every aspect of life was hard.  We were in total isolation in a foreign city, forced to adapt to the realities and frustrations of life in a third world country.  The people were crazy.  The driving was crazier.  Simple survival was the best we could hope for.  To be honest, I’m not sure what exactly I expected:  A fairytale transition where every Jamaican I met begged me to be their friend?  A city identical to Houston, only nestled in a Caribbean paradise?  A massive migration of the roaches and mosquitoes to another island upon my arrival?

Looking back it seems so silly.  But it was during my quiet time one morning that God taught me a HUGE lesson.  I was frustrated by all the frustrations and wanted answers.  And God, in His abundant mercy, graciously overlooked my faithless, feeble spirit and revealed how He wanted to use this time to grow my faith and mature my perspective.   He led me to the account of the hardships that Apostle Paul encountered during his lifetime of service.  In brief:

Paul was imprisoned, flogged severely, exposed to death again and again, received 40 lashes minus one (It was assumed that 40 lashes would kill someone), beaten with rods, pelted with stones, shipwrecked three times, spent nights in the open sea, went without sleep, knew hunger, thirst and nakedness as if they were dear friends, was in danger in the city, in the country and at sea—which which basically means everywhere, and the list goes on (see 2 Corinthians 11).

I read these verses and felt an overwhelming sense of conviction: I don’t have a CLUE about hardship.  My measly complaints paled in comparison to Paul’s experiences, and pale in comparison to so many suffering around the world today.  God has been so good—not only in this season, but throughout our entire lives.  He has never, ever failed us.  He promises to use every circumstance, no matter how difficult, painful or disappointing, for our own good (Romans 8:28).  A comforting promise, if we would only believe!

Paul knew great hardship.  But he also knew great contentment.   And he shared his secret with us: Contentment isn’t about your circumstances.  It’s not what you have or have-not.  It’s about the condition of your heart.  It’s choosing to trust no matter what chaos surrounds you.  It’s standing firm in your faith instead of faltering when the going gets rough.  Contentment comes through enduring hardship, whatever that may look like in your life, and choosing faith over fear.  It means believing God’s promise that we can do ALL things through Him who gives us strength (Phil 4:12).

So stand firm, dear friend.  No matter what you’re enduring, know that God is faithful and that He is using your situation for good.  That we can do ALL things (not some things, small things, most things but ALL things) with His great and mighty strength.  Now that’s certainly something to celebrate!  


With Love,


Kevin & Cass

Feels Like Home

Hi Family and Friends!

As some of you know and many of you don’t, I spent the last six weeks in the United States, visiting family and friends all over the country.  What started as a weeklong trip to North Carolina with my in-laws turned into a whirlwind US Tour.  I’m beyond grateful for the time I was able to spend with loved ones, and owe a HUGE thanks to my understanding, supportive hubby for holding down the fort in Kingston and encouraging me to enjoy the flexibility of this season to visit my nearest and dearest.  I don’t think we’d been apart that long since our long distance dating days, and I’m thankful to once again be sleeping under the same roof as my handsome husband!

During my travels I spent a lot of time pondering the idea of “home”.  I felt very much like a vagabond those six weeks—living out of a suitcase, wearing the same purple T-shirt for days on end, borrowing hair dryers and toothpaste and washing machines, sleeping in five different beds in four different states.  People would say, “You’ve been gone so long!  Are you excited to go home?”  To be honest, I wasn’t sure.  The thought of “going home” invoked a somewhat muddled image in my mind.

I started my trip in Oklahoma, on my grandparents’ farm, one of the closest places to heaven on earth.  Childhood memories of hot dog roasts and Easter egg hunts and summer days at the creek make Oklahoma feel like home as much as any other place.  My Mimi and Pawpaw are two of the people I love most in this world, and our kitchen table conversation, spades tournaments and Burger King lunches have shaped me into who I am today. 

I also spent a few weeks in Omaha, my childhood home.  As a kid, home was the little blue ranch on Hickory Street, with the brick mailbox and herb garden and red front door.  But the house was torn down years ago, and now something bigger and newer stands in its place.  My parents moved during my college years, so the house they now live in has only been my temporary home – a visiting spot for holidays and long weekends.  Initially, I thought this might be strange – that it would be a house but not a home.  But quickly I realized there is more love and joy and laughter in that house that any other place on earth and that creating new memories is equally as wonderful as cherishing old ones.  So now, the orange brick two story with the winding sidewalk and blue-gray front door feels like home.

As I write, I am back in Kingston, thousands of miles away from home.  But Kevin is here.  And God is here.  And with them my heart feels safe and loved and protected and happy.  And although the country is foreign and the culture is different, we’re creating memories and sharing life, and growing into the people God wants us to be, which makes this feel like home as much as any other place.

These past several months, I’ve come to realize that home is not a city or a street or even a house.  It’s the people you love and the people who love you.  It’s the memories you create and carry within your heart.  It's the friends you collect along the way.  Home travels with you, in the part of your soul that makes you who you are.  So no matter where you are or wherever you go, you’re never very far from home.

With Love,

Kevin & Cass

From Kevin with Love

Hello all!  Greetings from Kingston…..a.k.a “The Rock”, a.k.a “Jamrock”, ak.a. “Kingston-Town”, a.k.a “On the IMF Watch List for Economic Depravity”, a.k.a. “No problem mon”, a.k.a “Lots of problems mon, a.k.a. “Home”…..

I am filling in for my lovely wife who cannot blog this month because she is back in the United States.  I have been able to squeeze some writing time in-between by bachelordom activities of watching ESPN until they start rerunning the programming at midnight, not doing laundry, not keeping the house clean, and definitely not putting the decorative pillows back on the bed in the morning.  No worries though, I normally get back into my married routine a few days before Cass gets back so that there is a seamless transition upon her return.  You always have to play it cool....

Cass: “The house is so clean!”

Me: “Of course it is.  Why are you surprised?  I appreciate a clean house.”

Truth: I had to skip work in order to get this thing in shape before you got home.  I spent 8 hours cleaning up my messes and considered bringing in a Jamaican housemaid for backup on numerous occasions.

Anyway, things in Jamaica have been hectic and a bit taxing over the past four weeks. Work has been crazy and Cass being gone is never fun.  Over the past month, I have been traveling across Jamaica for business.  I’ve been up early and back at home late.  I figure that I might as well take advantage of this time with Cass away to grind away at growing business across Jamaica.  However, I am starting to feel the effects of my schedule, and find myself living in a continual state of being worn out.  Being worn out in a third world country feels different.  My body and soul both suffer.  Navigating the urban chaos of Kingston and enduring the daily grind seem to affect my spirit and my heart.  It takes a lot to get my spirit down, but I have found that a tough week (or day) in Jamaica can do it.  Whether I am dodging the constant potholes and peddlers or spending 45 minutes at the local drive thru to grab a “quick” lunch, some days are just tough.  There have probably been more days here in Jamaica that I have needed a “spirit revival” than I can remember in my whole life in the states. 

Generic Disclaimer: just to be clear…this isn’t a sob story about life in Jamaica.  We have an amazing setup here and have really fallen in love with the island.  We are blessed beyond belief.  I am just referring to the realities of third-world life.

Living in Jamaica, I have a greater awareness of my spiritual self than ever before.  When all your comforts are stripped away and you become a stranger in someone else’s land, you naturally become more in-tune with your spirit.  I think the Lord is really using this season to teach me big lessons.

The fact of the matter is that me being in Jamaica has nothing to do with how much I should be seeking daily “spirit revival”.  Whether you live in Houston, Kingston, Nairobi, or Beijing, we all live in a fallen world.  The daily battles we face as repercussions for our sin-nature can really beat us up.  If we are not careful, our spirit eventually dulls into a vacuum of lukewarm apathy.  The Lord is teaching me that my number one priority each day is to be in-tune with my spirit and His working in it.  If I can be aware of how the Lord is filling me each day, it will spill over into all of my interactions, allowing me to be a shining light in a dark world as opposed to a faint glimmer or no light at all.  Imagine what this world would be like if all believers were truly reviving their spirits on a daily basis….what witnesses we could be!

I have recently come across some verses that have really spoken to be on this issue of revival. 

-          In Isaiah 57, the Lord says the following, “I live in the high and holy places, but also with the low-spirited, the spirit-crushed, and what I do is put new spirit in them, I get them up and on their feet again…”  This really hit me.  The Lord is saying that no matter what our days have thrown at us, no matter what sin has caused us to stumble, the Lord gives us a renewed spirit.  It does not get more encouraging than that.

-          II Chronicles 16:9 (The Message) says, “God is always on the alert, constantly on the lookout for people who are totally committed to him.”  This is the real action verse for this topic.  Yes, the Lord can provide us with a new spirit, but he seeks those that are sold out for Him.  If we are in a fully committed relationship with the Lord, pursuing Him with all that is in us, THEN we will find Him and our spirit will be renewed.  Sometimes I am guilty of reading Isaiah 57 and then shutting my Bible.  Just because God promises us something, doesn’t mean that we don’t have to act.

I am so thankful that we serve a Lord that actively seeks us and - if we allow Him - can be our constant source of revival in this world.  What hope and victory that brings, ESPECIALLY when the going gets tough.  My prayer is that God will find me on His search for those totally committed to Him, on any day and at any hour.

Thanks for reading.  Cass will be back posting in a week or two.  Until then, the decorative pillows will remain on the floor...

Kevin

A Gratitude List

The months leading up to our move to Jamaica were difficult ones for me.  Not only were they emotionally taxing, but navigating the waters of an international move, ESPECIALLY with a country that operates under the “No problem, man” mentality proved extremely challenging for this detail oriented planner.  When we finally loaded our belongings onto a 20-foot crate and watched the movers pull out of the driveway, I honestly wondered if the crate would end up in Jamaica or Timbuktu.   

During those days, I wrote journal entry after journal entry, expressing my fear, frustration and lack of faith.  I begged God to calm my anxious heart, and wrote things like, “Are you here, God?  Please help.”  Words like overwhelmed, stressed and exhausted appear over and over again in the entries.  I felt frustrated at our circumstances and frustrated at God.  We were taking a step of faith with this move, so why wasn’t He making this a perfect, seamless transition?

In early October, a month or so before we moved, I wrote this sentence in my journal: “The person with an abiding Spirit of gratitude is the one who trusts God.”  I’m not sure where I read it.  I’m certain I didn’t write it myself, as gratitude was the LAST thing on my mind.  But it triggered something in my spirit.  I realized how UNgrateful I had been the past few months.  I was so focused on the things that weren’t going my way and so preoccupied with the fear of losing control (as if I had it in the first place) that I didn’t even notice the abundance of blessings around me.

I decided to write a Gratitude List.  A list of things I was thankful for — big and small, silly and serious.  Writing the list did something deep down in my soul.  Self-pity and worry were replaced with awe and reverence at how good the Lord had been to me.  Bit by bit my faith increased, and I felt God teaching me that part of the adventure is learning to trust Him.  Here’s a portion of the list:

My Gratitude List

For Kevin

For Grizzly (our seven pound Maltipoo)

For my family

For Papa’s salvation — that I know he’s singing with Jesus right now

For my health and the health of those I love

For a full belly — that I don’t really know hunger

For the beautiful weather

For my education

For safety — that I don’t go to bed afraid

For coffee

For mangos

For clean water

For Jesus

For forgiveness

For grace

For people who love me just as I am

For country music

For meringue cookies — that they taste so good and are easy to make

I've reread my gratitude list on many occasions, and continue adding to it on a regular basis.  I recommend a Gratitude List to anyone feeling discouragement or despair.  Your circumstances may not change.  But your perspective certainly will.

With gratitude for you,

Kevin & Cass